


Three Different Days, Three Different Coffee Houses

by turn_turn_turn



Series: Um, Hello - A Meet-Cute AU Series [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, I mean a muffin has a cameo, M/M, Meet-Cute, Shy Steve, but maybe it is?, if that helps, this is not a coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:25:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8995789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turn_turn_turn/pseuds/turn_turn_turn
Summary: The first time Steve just wants his scarf back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Meet-cute premise: I am the Champion of Ineptitude In Flirting, but luckily fate has provided me with a second chance. Actually scratch that, I'm gunna need a third.

**3:** **43** **PM, The Daily Grind**  

The first time Steve just wants his scarf back.   

Steve's halfway home from the café before the cold wind biting at the back of his neck makes him realize he's left his scarf behind. It's the navy one his mom knitted him last year, too. Double damnit.   

He turns in his tracks and shuffles back, pulling his coat collar up and hunching his shoulders to fend off the chill.   

A block later he reenters the warm, fuggy atmosphere of the shop and heads toward the tiny table he'd been working at earlier, his glasses fogging over with the change in temperature.  

Steve can tell his former spot has been reoccupied but he can't make out anything beyond three indistinct, people-sized shapes through the condensation on his lenses.  

"Um, excuse me," he begins, hastily wiping his glasses clear with a mitten-clad thumb and pushing them back onto his nose.  

Unfortunately whatever follow up there was to the snazzy opener of 'Um, excuse me' quickly dies on his lips as the fuzzy blobs resolve into three of the most attractive people Steve has ever seen up close.  

There's a woman with full, beautiful lips and dark eyes, her deep red hair falling in gleaming swathes around her face and framing her delicate jawline; there's a sandy-haired man with angled, boyishly handsome features, the charms of which are not subdued even slightly by the heavy bruising around his left eye or the smattering of Hello Kitty bandages taped across the bridge of his nose; and there's a man with messy chestnut hair long enough to graze the collar of his jacket, slate-blue eyes that gleam with a remarkable warmth, and a fuzz of two-day stubble darkening the skin of his cheeks and chin - a combination which Steve is finding it hard to look directly at for more than a few seconds.  

Steve is finding it hard to look at _any_ of them directly for more than a few seconds. It's a cornucopia of hotness at this table, basically, and the bounty is a tad overwhelming.  

It's around this point that Steve realizes he's been darting his eyes around the table in mute awe for a solid two minutes.  

"Uhhhh," he offers, in articulate apology for the blatant and wholely embarassing oggling. The most articulate apology he can currently muster, anyway.  

"Can we help you?" the redhead asks, her soft mouth curling around a kind smile.   

"Ah, um, could you – ah, would you -" Steve starts again but then falters, his eyes flicking back and forth between the redhead and the brunette, who is now staring openly at Steve with a bright, amused expression.  

The grey-blue eyes crinkle at the corners as the man flashes Steve a grin.  

"Pal, if you are about to attempt flirting with her I'll save you some time and tell you that she's already dating this idiot," the man says, jerking an elbow toward the fair-haired guy. Then he props his chin on his palm and gazes up at Steve with an indolent smirk. "You can flirt with me though, if you wanted. I'm available."  

And then the guy practically _bats his eyelashes_.   

His long, pretty -   

Steve's brain blanks out for several moments, and he barely registers the gruff snort of amusement from Fair-Haired Band-Aid Guy.   

After another moment of flustered, where-do-I-look-now panic, Steve catches sight of his blue scarf poking out from beneath Totally Amazing Redhead's chair.  

"Um. But. But she -" Steve hears himself say.   

Crazy Attractive Dark-Haired Guy lets out a dejected huff and turns back toward the table.  

"How come Nat gets all the cute ones?" he addresses Fair-Haired Band-Aid Guy. "She's just like, ethereally gorgeous and whip smart and thoroughly competent at almost everything – not that much of a catch, otherwise," he shrugs.   

Fair-Haired Band-Aid Guy lifts his hands from his lap and signs, "Were you this jealous when I started flirting with her?"  

Crazy Attractive Dark-Haired Guy snorts. "You are like half as cute as this guy, so no," he mutters. He glances back at Steve briefly, then signs, "Maybe a third as cute – he's breaking my heart."   

Steve's not sure if he is using sign as a means of being covert – if so he must not register the hearing aid in Steve's left ear. Fair-Haired Band-Aid Guy definitely notices it though, if the wink he shoots Steve's way is anything to go by.  

Steve gulps, trying to get ahold of himself. "I ah, I just -"   

"I think he's broken," Fair-Haired Band-Aid Guy says, tilting his head and regarding Steve with a quizzical expression that makes him look like a curious Labrador.   

Crazy Attractive Dark-Haired Guy turns back to look at Steve. "He's not broken – he's just got horrible taste, picking Nat over me. Go on," he nods at Steve, "But it's a total waste, if you ask me – _I_ would flirt back."   

"It's just – she's on my scarf," Steve manages finally, his voice a tad more squeaky than he'd prefer. Which is to say 'very squeaky.' Like, advanced-puberty-levels of squeakiness.  

"What?" Both of the men ask in unison.   

"She's, she's on my – excuse me ma'am, sorry, but my scarf is under your chair." Steve meets the redhead's eyes imploringly. "You're on my scarf."  

"So I am," she affirms, reaching down to pull up the garment, handing it to Steve with an apologetic but amused expression. The corners of her mouth are twitching.  

Next to her, the brunette has gone silent, his beautiful face stained with a bright-red blush.  

Across the table, Fair-Haired BandAid Guy starts to giggle.   

He's fully cackling by the time Steve turns around and bolts without a backwards glance.   

 

 **7:21 AM, Starbucks**   

The second time is definitely Steve's fault.   

He's at the Starbucks across the street from the magazine office, trying both to gear up for his pitch and to resist the temptation to lay his head on the grimy table's surface and doze off. The virtual conference with their overseas clients is set for first thing this morning, and the confluence of project deadlines has kept Steve up all night preparing materials.  

It's a good thing the pitch doesn't require him to be on video call; he's sure he looks like un-thoroughly-microwaved death. _A_ _nd_ he's still in his studio sweats – not his most professional look, overall.    

He gets up from his table and makes his way to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face and fuss at his disheveled hair.   

Returning to his seat, he leans over his laptop, staring blearily at the screen.   

 _Huh._  

He glances over the document in exhausted confusion - it's more of a mess than he'd thought. He barely even recognizes it. Since when does his proposal include a discussion of blitzkrieg maneuvers?   

He's still blinking blankly at the screen when he registers a presence at his elbow.   

"Um, hey. Buddy," a deep voice says.    

Steve looks up to find a tall, dark, handsome, et cetera man standing a few feet from Steve's little table, a steaming mug in his one hand. Possibly the most 'et cetera' individual Steve has ever seen; there's a lot of good stuff going on, like, all over the guy.  

The guy adds a charming smirk to his list of Outstanding Attributes, and says, "I know it's a rough draft but it can't be bad enough to warrant that look on your face – my publishers did assure me that a sequel would be a hit." He pauses to take a sip from his cup. "Also, it's not really kosher to just read a stranger's computer screen without permission – you know that, right?"  

Steve gapes at the man in total confusion, his words failing to permeate the fuzz of exhaustion clouding Steve's brain.

It's possible this guy looks a little familiar, maybe?  

The man gives up waiting for Steve to respond and continues, "Seeing as we never actually got introduced the first time, technically we're still strangers. Hello."  

"Hey," Steve responds dumbly, and oh shit, it's Hot Dark-Haired Guy from the scarf-debacle. Why is he -   

"I'd ask if you remember me, but given the look of utter bewilderment you're wearing, I think I'm lucking out – the first time _was_ a bit humiliating for me, though Nat and Clint seemed to enjoyed it. I think we're even now, though," the guy adds, gesturing to the computer in front of Steve.  

Steve glances back at the laptop screen and the penny finally drops; he's sitting at the wrong table. He's sitting in front of a stranger's computer. And not just _any_ stranger's computer -  he has mistakenly sat down at _Scarf-_ _Debacle Hottie's_ table.   

Steve wonders if keeling over in embarrassment is his only recourse in this situation. He's certainly leaning toward it.   

Instead he just says the first thing that comes to mind: "Shit."  

Scarf-Debacle Hottie laughs, the sound of it rough and pleasing. "That's pretty much where we're at, yeah. Geeze, man, how tired are you? I think you might be sleepwalking. Definitely looks like you're still wearing your pajamas."   

Steve glances down at his ratty, paint-splattered sweatpants and his similarly bedraggled hoodie.  

"Well I did sleep in them, so technically you're right – though the term 'sleep' is strictly technical in this instance - I think I got like, a half hour, give or take." Steve pauses to rub his palms up under his glasses and against his burning eyes. "Ya know I didn't _think_ I was working on a World War II combat memoir, but for a moment there I wasn't sure."   

Scarf-debacle Hottie grins. "To be fair I have that moment pretty frequently myself, and I am writing the damn thing."   

"Well I'll ah, let you get back to it then. Sorry for, um, stealing your seat and ah -" Steve attempts to extricate himself from the guy's chair as gracefully as possible, which as usual leaves a lot to be desired.   

"At least you didn't finish my scone," the guy jokes. "And hey, don't you want to know more about my book now that you've gotten a peek? I'll get you a fresh coffee – you definitely could use it – and you can ask me terrifically probing and insightful questions about my protagonist's motivations that will help me with the writer's block. Stay."   

Steve stops trying to squeeze between the edge of the table and the wall and stares blankly at him. "You want me to stay?"   

"Yeah – you weren't really interrupting anything, to be honest. And as long as I get my seat back I'd like to keep talking to you. My name's Bucky, by the way."   

"Ahhh, Steve – I'm Steve."  

"Nice to officially meet you, Steve." Bucky smiles warmly.   

Steve's heart jumps into his throat; this guy is devastatingly good-looking. Just _devastating_. He's making Steve's chest hurt.  

And he's looking at Steve with genuine interest.  

Steve doesn't know what to do with all that, so he cops out. "Uh, I've actually got a deadline – in like a fifteen minutes, and I really shouldn't be late. I think I'll already have enough points against me this morning," he babbles, gesturing down at his grungy clothes.   

"Oh, okay. Too bad. Well, best of luck on the deadline." Bucky shrugs, doing nothing to mask his disappointment.   

"Th-thanks," Steve manages weakly, feeling heat rise into his cheeks and mentally kicking himself for not just -   

"I'll see you around, maybe." Bucky's smile is regretful.    

"Yeah, um, see you around." Steve's sure his is too, though he's got no one to blame but his cowardly self.   

And Maria – she's the one that scheduled this conference, after all. It's all her fault, really. That's what Steve will tell himself, anyway. For now.  

Steve hurriedly gathers his things at his table, trying not to glance back at Bucky every few seconds and failing; he really is something.   

Damn.   

 

 **11:12 AM, Java Hut**  

The third time Steve literally runs into him. Ass-first, he might add.   

Steve stops at the coffee shop around the corner from Sam's apartment on Friday morning. He's holding the door open behind him for a woman with a stroller, stepping far back to avoid the bulky wheels, when he trips, falling backward and landing heavily onto someone's lap.   

"Oof!" the person exclaims, and Steve looks over his shoulder to find Bucky, looking very surprised and a little like a chipmunk - his cheeks stuffed full with whatever he's eating.   

Steve quickly shifts away from Bucky's lap and onto the couch beside him, hoping his boney ass hadn't bruised Bucky's thigh.   

Bucky says something through his mouthful of muffin: "We'be rully guda stomp m'ning like dis."   

Steve tries not to stare at his crumb-dotted lips. "What?"  

Bucky swallows with an audible gulp. "I said 'we've really got to stop meeting like this.'"  

Steve quickly calculates the odds of running into the same stranger – an asthma-aggravatingly attractive stranger, a level of attractive that is _still cute_ with it's cheeks packed full of baked goods - three times in the same week, in city of eight-million people, and decides to just take the plunge already.  

He steels himself and tries, rather poorly, "Oh ah, actually I ah, I think we _should_ \- you know, keep, um – except, ah, intentionally. Um."  

Bucky grins at him, eyes practically _twinkling_ , for godsakes. "Barely comprehensible, but bold. I didn't think you had it in you."   

Steve snorts, shifting again so his thigh rests along the full length of Bucky's. "Me neither," he admits.   

Bucky's widening smile makes Steve's chest twinge.  

"So can I buy you a muffin or something?" Bucky asks.  

Steve rubs his palm over the back of his neck. "You know, that was gunna be my line, but watching you inhale that one kinda ruined the romance of it for me."  

Bucky shakes his head, his shoulder bumping Steve's. "There really isn't a suave way to eat a muffin, I gotta tell you."  

"No?"  

"Not one that good, anyway. C'mon, I'll get you one – you can prove me wrong and be the first person to pull off 'sexy' while peeling the soggy, paper wrapper thing."   

Steve raises an eyebrow. "That sounds like a pretty daunting task."  

"I dunno, I think you can rise to the challenge." And with that Bucky actually _winks_ at him.   

Steve feels his cheeks heat as all the blood in his body rushes north. "You come on pretty strong, ya know," he squeaks out, finding it difficult to hold Bucky's eye.   

Bucky shrugs, still grinning. "I like you. Is that okay?"  

Steve's stomach flips. "I mean, you don't even know me – but yeah. Yeah, it's okay."   

Bucky beams. "Okay. And I'll _get_ to know you – hopefully. Now shut up while I go get you a muffin, four-eyes. There, is that better?"   

Steve rolls his eyes and adjusts his glasses. "Loads."  

"Good. Now get comfortable – this date could last a while." Bucky stands up.   

"Oh this is a date now?"  

"It's been a date since you fell into my lap. 'Begin as you mean to go on' and all that," Bucky announces, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.   

Steve blushes again. "That was an accident, I -"  

"The precedent stands. Now, do you want blueberry or apple cinnamon?"  

"Apple, please."  

"I coulda guessed." 

  
"Oh yeah?" Steve narrows his eyes.  

"You've got a very 'American as apple pie' wholesomeness about you. The hair, I think - it's very Young Jimmy Carter."  

"Fuck off."  

"I knew it - virtuous to a fault. One apple muffin coming up."  

Bucky makes his way toward the counter and Steve pulls out his phone, texting Sam to say that he'll be late for lunch.   

 

Today 11:24 AM 

Me: Going to be late! Don't wait to eat!  

Sam: **probably for the best**  

Sam: **riley** **did something to the panini press and now** **every time** **I plug it in it blows a fuse**   

Sam: **text me when** **your** **e** **done with whatever** **youre** **doing and** **Ill** **let you know if the building is still standing**  

Me: More like WHOever I'm doing ;) 

Sam: **WHAT???**  

Sam: **steven** **grant** **rogers** **you best explain yourself**  

Sam: **RIGHT NOW**   

Me: Just kidding, we're only grabbing a coffee  

Me: And a muffin  

Sam: **that had better not be a euphemism**  

Sam: **cause I know I taught you better than to talk about ladies like that**  

Me: Awe c'mon no way  

Me: And it's a guy  

Sam: **WHO** **WHO** **WHO**  

Me: You remember that guy I told you about? The one I keep running into and embarrassing myself in front of? 

Sam: **YES**  

Me: Well it happened again. 

Sam: **YESSSSSSSS**  

Me: Embarrassment factor still high, but at least this time I didn't run away  

Me: I mean I haven't yet. 

Sam: **you sit your ass down and eat that muffin with the handsome man**  

Sam: **or else**  

Me: I will try! Omg sam he's so gorgeous  

Me: And funny  

Me: And cute omg  

Sam: **get it** **rogers** **!**  

Sam: **oh man are you at java hut? d** **o you need assistance?? y** **ou know I got the wings**  

Sam: **or what if I just co** **me down there and** **peek** **in** **thru** **the window all subtle like**  

Me: NO  

Sam: **but I want to see him!**  

Me: Some other time maybe  

Me: I don't need to add any creepy goons to this date  

Me: He probably already thinks I'm strange enough 

Sam: **IT** **S** **A DATE??**  

Sam: **like legit??**  

Me: That's what he called it (monkey covering eyes emoji)  

Sam: **HELL YEAH**  

Sam: **GET (salsa dancing emoji) IT (salsa dancing emoji)** **ROGERS**  

Me: I will do my very best, Captain *salute* 

Sam: **(thumbs up emoji)**  

Sam: **riley** **says if you leave the gorgeous** **guy** **just to come have cold sandwiches with us he will disown you**  

Sam: **and I agree**  

Sam: **so wed better not see you anytime soon**  

Sam: **unless the hottie is** **with you** **thatd** **be fine**  

Sam: **also if the two of you brought us a few of those muffins** **thatd** **be cool**  

Me: I'm putting the phone away now.  

Sam: **already choosing him over your best buds huh? I** **see how it is**  

Me: Seriously, the phone is going in my pocket  

Sam: **we will** **take two blueberry ones and** **don** **t** **even try to pretend like you** **didn** **t** **see this**  

Me: *dark, muffin-less interior of Steve's pocket*  

Sam: **youre** **such a little shit**  

Me: :p 

 

Steve grins to himself, looking up to catch Bucky watching him from his spot in line. Bucky quickly darts his eyes away but then looks back, meeting Steve's gaze with a sheepish smile.   

Steve smiles back, open.   

Third time's a charm.  

  

 

\---  

 

  

 **A few weeks later...**   

  

"Buck. Bucky. _Buck_." Steve nudges at Bucky's side, trying to wake him.   

"Ughhhhhhh, what?" Bucky groans sleepily, pressing his face deeper into his pillow.  

"It's your turn t'make the coffee," Steve urges, poking him again.   

"Fine, fine," Bucky yawns, levering himself up, the covers rolling off his shoulders in a wave of fabric. He blinks groggily down at Steve and smirks. "Keep the sheets warm – I'm coming back."   

Steve grins and closes his eyes, feeling the mattress shift as Bucky pushes off the bed.  

"Deal." 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Background Sam/Riley domestic hijinks, you say? Can'thelpmyselfwon'thelpmyself.  
> Don't get me wrong, I completely ship Sam with literally everyone in the MCU (you cannot tell me that given the opportunity ANYONE would refuse Sam Wilson. Like c'mon. EVERYONE would be down to date that guy. EVERYONE.) but there is something about the Sam/Riley dynamic that I cannot. resist. 
> 
> ALSO I know Nat doesn't really say anything in the first scene, but it's not that I didn't want to write more of her, it's just that I couldn't imagine her doing anything other than sitting back and watching the scene play itself out. Because my girl OBVIOUSLY picked up on EXACTLY what was going on from the first (Love At First Sight, duh) and, as Grace Personified, was highly amused by all the ridiculous fumbling going on. I mean, look at those idiots. What a bunch of morons. Get her some popcorn. 
> 
> SORRY ABOUT THE LATENESS, btw - there was a holiday party, and a cocktail, and an incident involving an entire pepperoni pizza. It could not be helped. 
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING, babes! Can't wait to share the HYPER FESTIVE HO HO HO installment with you tomorrow! Maybe I'm overselling that a little - but it's like, three sugar plums out of five on the festive scale, at least. <3


End file.
